


The Evolution of Me And You

by ohcosima



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: (at some point), (kinda i guess), (mostly poussey ahah), (nothing big don't worry), Alternate Universe — High School, Angst, Bullying, F/F, First Date, First Kiss, First Meeting, First Time, Fluff, Heteronormativity, High School AU, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, Jock Poussey, Nerd Brook, Swearing, Violence, it's a Firsts fic, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:31:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohcosima/pseuds/ohcosima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a tumblr prompt by breeutiful: "hey are you still taking fic prompts? because if so i would loveeeee to read a poussey x soso fic about their firsts e.g. first kiss, first look, first time, etc." Sorry for the delay, here it is, sweetheart.</p><p>Brook makes the mistake― the <i>horrible</i> mistake of looking at her. She has seen her before.</p><p>It has been in the school corridors. One of the first days of school, the previous year, when she had moved only a short while before; she was organizing her locker, and she had passed by with her group of friends. She was loud and cheerful while she talked to her friends, and nobody could blame Brook for what happened next.</p><p>Brook had followed her with her gaze and all of the books had fallen over her like she was in some kind of stereotypical film about a geeky loser girl who couldn’t move without tripping over herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. this is what it all comes down to (when you need to let it all through)

** First Meeting **

When Brook stumbles in class five minutes later than it is allowed, she is already expecting the lecture.

She’s expecting Mr. Healy turning it into a case and ranting about something completely unrelated to her tardiness, like medieval plague or onions layers.

She expects the seat near her to be empty because her desk mate, Tricia, hasn’t been showing up since forever. She has asked around, but a girl who everybody calls Big Boo told her to mind her own business, and that everything was fine. She seemed rather serious, so she hasn’t brought it up to nobody ever since.

She retrieves her pens and block notes from her backpack, ready to start the first class of the day.

The truth is she hasn’t got a lot of friends in here, but the teachers (well, _most_ of them) like her, and that’s all that counts. She repeats herself that every day: she’s here to learn, she’s not here for making friends. She’s not here for M.I.A. girls, she’s not here for girls _at all_.

Brook is so _not_ here for girls just like the one that has just entered the classroom. Tall, confident, way out of her league.

She can tell immediately Mr. Healy hates her too, and she can see why. She not only comes in with enormous lateness, but she strolls in, chill, nonchalant, saluting the teacher with a smug grin. Healy is fuming, alarmingly still and probably on the verge of yelling his throat sore.

But she imperturbably answers, “Coach wanted to see me,” and that apparently grants her immunity. Healy is probably reconsidering his career choices while he corrects the class register once more.

Brook makes the mistake― the _horrible_ mistake of looking at her. She has seen her before.

It has been in the school corridors. One of the first days of school, the previous year, when she had moved only a short while before; she was organizing her locker, and she had passed by with her group of friends. She was loud and cheerful while she talked to her friends, and nobody could blame Brook for what happened next.

Brook had followed her with her gaze and all of the books had fallen over her like she was in some kind of stereotypical film about a geeky loser girl who couldn’t move without tripping over herself.

The girl scans the room in search for a seat after Healy urges her to find herself a partner for today’s class, and Brook is silently grateful that a bunch of them are free besides the one near her, because dealing with a stranger – a cute one, too – today isn’t in her plans and she doesn’t want it to be.

But then again, has she mentioned how horrible her mistake is? Staring at people should be forbidden by the law, if the consequences involve locking eyes with said people and kind of _inviting_ them to come closer. Because the girl takes it as an invite to just walk over and throw her backpack on the desk, before addressing her.

“Is this seat taken?” and she grins at her too, like Brook isn’t in physical pain just now.

“No.” is all she can muster honestly; keep it short and clean has been her philosophy for a while, and besides she doesn’t trust her voice right now. Another smile is thrown her way and the girl glows, Brook can testify in court about it.

She isn’t ok, not even remotely, and it must show. “Hey, I’m Poussey. I don’t think we’ve met.” She whispers, and Brook doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes divert to elsewhere in the class, and she doesn’t miss the way some heads turn away abruptly.

Brook turns to look at her again. “Um, no, we― no. I’m Brook.”

If only she could stop smiling, Brook would stop staring. But she doesn’t. And it’s unfair. She praises whatever god is watching over her when Healy complains about somebody disturbing his class and makes the two of them turn their heads to look at the chalkboard, because then they have to at least postpone introductions.

She asks for a pen a while later though. And then for a rubber. And she asks if she can borrow her notes for only a moment, just to see if what she wrote is right and then thanks her.

Brook feels warm when she leans over to compare her annotation and Brook’s. She’s pretty sure by now she’s doing it on purpose, because there is no way she can’t see Brook flush every time she talks to her.

The class passes with Brook looking straight ahead of her and doing her best not to turn her way; when the bell rings, Brook is out of the door before Healy can say, “And with that, I’m done.”

** First Look **

Brook learns everything about her within the next two weeks. She starts seeing her kind of everywhere even though, let things be clear, she’s _not_ purposefully looking for her.

She knows she’s the lacrosse team captain – she wears their team jacket all the time – and that she’s friends with the most popular people in school. She hangs out with Taystee, the kind girl who is in charge of the school library. Brook likes her, she’s always smiling, and her smile is so bright and contagious it makes her feel happy too.

She’s friends with Janae, but Brook doesn’t know a lot about her. She is in debate club and she runs track, but she’s too mean-looking for Brook to actually try and make friends.

Cindy is the funniest of the bunch; she always wears her hair up in cute hairdos, which Brook envies. She can braid her hair, but it stops there. Maybe it is that Sophia girl helping her, but Brooks doesn’t really care that much to investigate further.

Brook has her own little group of friends too, besides. She has Yoga, who is such a calm person. She really likes her, she doesn’t let her feel constantly in need to do something with her hands. Suzanne is also one of the persons she likes, but she hardly ever hangs out with her anymore since the new girl transferred. She doesn’t know Maureen at all, she’s only ever seen her walking in school hands in hands with Suzanne from time to time, so she assumes there is something between the two. They are indeed very cute together, and the thought makes her smile to herself.

She also learns that Poussey is everybody’s dream girl and Brook feels weird  when she learns her Chemistry Lab partner has a crush on her. She’s very pretty, with her blonde hair and her german accent and her body sculpted by hours of cheerleading practice.

Brook suddenly feels her face go hot, and she prays it’s only a passing sensation of hers, that it has no repercussion on her face and that everybody misses the red tinting her cheeks.

When the last class is finally over, she puts all the books in her backpack and prepares herself for her walk home. It’s rather chilly and she’s so glad she decided to put on thicker tights and a scarf.

She halfway out of school ground when someone calls for her.

“Hey, you! Benny!” she freezes. Nobody has called her that since forever. If someone knows… “Long time, no see.”

Leanne wears her most scornful sneer, and it makes Brook’s skin crawl. “Leanne.”

“Wow, you know my name, shocker.” She feigns amazement. Her best friend, Angie, stays behind her, eyeing Brook with what seems anticipation.

Brook doesn’t know what to say, but she is determined to not let the girl get to her, so she just takes a step back, a deep breath, and she tries to smile as confidently as she can. “It’s– it’s been nice. Now, um, I gotta go.”

Leanne raises her eyebrows, smirking viciously, “You used to talk a lot more. What happened? The drugs shut you up eventually?”

Brook blinks, panic slowly weighing down on her chest. “Hi,” she mutters, and she turns, she wants to run but her legs feel heavy; she manages a fast pace, but she hears them calling her by her nickname.

“Benny! Yo, Benny, what are you afraid of? That I’m gonna steal your lunch?” they erupt in a fit of ugly laughter that has Brook grimacing. She has already reached the sidewalk, her back tense with dread.

While episodes of Leanne locking her into bathroom stalls flash in front of her eyes, she hears someone running after her. She doesn’t turn around, too focused on getting the hell away from there as fast as possible. But a hand grabbing her hair stops her and sends her tumbling backwards until she completely loses balance and her head hits the ground.

She winces in pain, closing her eyes and whishing for Leanne to take pity and let her lie on the sidewalk. She feels humiliated enough by herself.

Leanne stands tall, casting her a look full of disdain. She sees her approaching, but she does nothing to prevent her from harming her further. Leanne squats near her, and Brook is by now accepting that nobody is going to chime in.

She closes her eyes, ready to feel her nose bleed and get her head thrust in the ground (a feeling she will never get accustomed to, no matter how many times she endures it), but the punch she has been waiting for doesn’t come. Instead, she hears Leanne screeching, Angie yelling something along her. She squeezes her eyes, tensing and covering her face with her hands while she can.

But still nothing comes, just Leanne crying, “Let go of my hair!”

“Go run back into the hole you crawled out from!” someone roars.

She is almost certain fear has gripped her so tightly that she’s not going to move from there. But then the same voice, much gentler than before, shakes her.

“You can get up.” She’s heard it before, and only then she opens her eyes to see if she’s dreaming it or if it’s really happening. And it _is_ happening. Poussey Washington is staring into her eyes, boring holes into her pupils. She’s upside-down, she seems kind of funny, and Brook is still lying there, with her mouth open.

What feel like ages pass while Brook gets lost into big, dark, mesmerizing eyes. Only when Poussey grows worried the silence is broken, “Are you ok? Can you hear me?”

She furrows her brows and in that moment Brook snaps out of her Poussey-induced trance and responds. “Yes! Yeah!” she blurts, sitting up instantly. Poussey falters a bit before getting up and extending a hand to Brook, who takes it and smiles at the other girl.

“Is your head okay?” Poussey asks, and Brook touches it just to make sure; she doesn’t feel but a throbbing pain, blood is fortunately not involved.

“All is fine. Thank you,” Brook says, “You didn’t have to.”

“You’re kidding?” Poussey asks in disbelief, “She was going to use you as a punch bag. In broad daylight!” she gestures wildly at her surroundings.

Brook swallows, chuckling lightly, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” she says bitterly, and it comes out as if it’s meant to be a joke, but more bitter and resigned.

Poussey widens her eyes at first, but then her face darkens, “You’re used to this?”

Brook smiles, tight-lipped and apologetic.

Poussey clicks her tongue, “Listen― Brook, right?”

“Yes,” she confirms. Poussey nods to herself, gripping her backpack strap, “Come,” she commands, and she’s aiming for the bus stop, but Brook is frozen in place.

“I― I’m on feet.”

Poussey stops and turns to look at her with light bewilderment, clearly realizing she’d just assumed, “Oh.”

“Right.” She laughs, “I’ll go. See you in class.”

And she’s already out of there, but she hears her call for her. “Wait!” she hears Poussey speeding up to keep her pace. “I’ll walk you.”

Brook is momentarily speechless, but when she regains word, she immediately declines the offer. “No, no don’t worry! They won’t be coming back and if they do I have my phone―”

“I want to,” Poussey interrupts with a grave voice. Brook can feel the blush creeping up her neck. Poussey must see it, because she gapes briefly before bringing a hand to her head and adding, “To make sure they don’t. Come back. I know they could and… just let me, ok?” Poussey asks, “Besides I live that way so, um, it’s no big deal.” And Brook is so confused at what is happening she just nods and she lets her walk beside her just like that.

She is pretty sure the bus always takes the opposite way of the one she takes every day, but she can’t tell with absolute certainty, and she is so awful at small talk that it hurts anyway. They spend the beginning of their walk in silent, Brook looks around her as if she hasn’t seen the landscape a billion times and has it memorized (anything to not look at _her_ ). Poussey, on the other hand, is so far from subtle that it makes Brook grin; she keeps glancing at her and she desperately wants to find something― anything to start a conversation with, but she can’t. The more she thinks, the more all she gets in her head is a commotion of voices telling her to do completely different things. So the course of action she chooses is the one where she pretends not to notice how the girl’s big eyes are scrutinizing her once again.

“So,” Poussey coughs a bit, dipping her hands in the pockets of her loose pants. “Is that a thing that happens?”

Brooks looks at her with surprise, “The… the… Leanne?”

“Yes. I mean, does she always act like this?”

“She has been since I transferred here.”

Poussey gulps awkwardly, “That’s fucking bad, dude.”

They find themselves in silence for a couple of seconds. “Why do you let her?” Poussey asks, and from her tone Brook senses that the girl herself knows it’s a fairly silly question.

“I wouldn’t if I knew how to make her stop. It’s not like I didn’t try. I am strongly opposed to using violence as a mean of solving difficulties. I resolved into confronting her pacifically and making her understand the wrongness of her doings and, um, I tried just… adopting the most non-harmful measures.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I told her I would tell the principal, or her parents. But it just worsened things, I guess. She started coming at me almost every day after that.”

Poussey sighs, “They are not gonna help, you gotta make it on your own.”

“It’s not that easy,”

“It is though.” Poussey insisted, and though it made Brook a little nervous, she listened with interest, “You should, I don’t know, plan something, like a proper retort and hit her when she least expect it. Scare her away!”

Brook ponders, but coming up with nothing better to say she smirks playfully, mimicking what the other girl had told her. “Like what?”

She looks at Poussey, her expression veiled with tease, but the girl appears to be in deep thought. “Well,” she starts hesitantly, “I could help you, if you wanted?”

And there she is again, looking at her with an expression she can’t really read, which has Brook looking ahead of her and hoping in some kind of big disaster happening right in front of them so she can avoid that question forever. “I could teach you how to defend yourself. I’ve been teaching a couple of boxing classes at school too. I mean, I’m no expert, but still.”

“Sure,” and she is answering without even thinking it through. Thoughts about the implications are completely thrown out of the window in favor of focusing on the increasing speed of her heartbeat, which is ridiculous and shouldn’t happen and―

“Really?” a big smile grows on Poussey’s face, “I mean, great.” She corrects herself, “We could meet up at my house. I’ve got a pretty big backyard, we could practice there. If that’s ok.”

Brook stops, having reached her house. Poussey is there in front of her, rubbing the back of her neck with Brook can only describe as a hopeful look (though she doesn’t want to pass as the one who’s hopeful for something that probably isn’t there) and waiting for an answer.

“Practice?” Brook asks, because she thought she was going to get advice and ways to avoid Leanne and it would’ve stopped there.

“Yeah, practice,” Poussey nods decisively, “Self defense, throwing punches and stuff. Of course I’ll prep you first, so don’t worry.”

“But I don’t want to throw punches,” Brook mutters with a hint of doubt in her words, “Leanne is a really troubled girl and what if I make it worse? It’s like that film where there’s a guy who beats up people because his dad beat him up and I don’t want Leanne beating up people because I beat her up, what if she tells her parents and then _I_ get sent to the principal office? My mom is going to kill me, she―”

“Brook,” Poussey grabs her by her arms, making her stop immediately. But as soon as she grabs her, she lets her go, realizing she has most definitely overstepped. They weren’t really more than acquaintances, after all. Poussey clears her throat, looking at her in the eyes one last time. “Think about it and let me know. See you at school.”

It’s not like she has _feelings_ for her. She’s just very intimidating, and nobody would believe her if she told them Poussey Washington asked her to stop by her house for boxing lessons. She is giggly and kind of excited, but really, it’s just that she wonders, what are the odds?

~

 “Ok, no, stop. Stop. Brook, _stop_!”

Poussey tries to reach for Brook’s arms and steady her, but the girl is relentless, disregarding every tip Poussey gave her and just blindly throwing punches without any technique whatsoever. She manages to grab her wrists from behind, fearing for her life while doing so, and put an halt to the girl’s wrath.

Poussey laughs when Brook tries wriggling herself out of her grip, “What has it ever done to you,” she jokes, coming to face the girl. She lets her go when she seems to have quieted down, attempting to look into her eyes, but Brook is gazing down, pensive and upset.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing big, I’m just,” she sighs as if she’s been defeated by something, “Tired.”

Poussey blinks. “Do you wanna rest?”

“Yeah, maybe a little,” she agrees, following Poussey inside the house.

“Has something happened? Leanne?”

“Nah, not really. She’s preparing something for sure, but she’s  keeping to herself for now.”

“So what’s up?” Poussey asserts, “If you want to tell me,” she adds quickly.

Brook sighs, shrugging lightly. “Look, it’s gonna sound stupid no matter what, so I’m― I’m gonna go ahead and just say it. I’ve been thinking that maybe I did something. Maybe I deserve it. I don’t know.”

Poussey frowns, “What do you mean?”

Brook huffs, “I don’t know, look, it came out wrong,” she rubs her eye just to avoid meeting Poussey’s gaze.

“Brook, it came out wrong because _it is_ a bad thing to say. And to think.” Poussey’s frown deepens even more, “Why would you think that?”

Brook grows a bit frustrated, she doesn’t want to explain, she wouldn’t understand anyway, why would she? “I just do.”

Poussey remains silent for a couple of seconds. “Let’s get inside.”

They go into the kitchen and Poussey pours her a glass of water; she thinks the discussion has ended, and that this is Poussey’s way of diverting the focus, but she perks up when Poussey unexpectedly resumes the previous topic.

“Even if it really was your fault, she has no right.” She says with a serious tone, “Bullying people is wrong. We all have problems, we all do wrong and have wrong done to us. But that’s just not a fucking excuse.”

Brook doesn’t dare talk. Poussey doesn’t look at her, she’s staring at a spot on her kitchen counter, and for a moment Brook is worried she has upset her. “Sorry.”

Poussey shifts her gaze on her, and she feels under scrutiny. “No.”

Brook tenses, “What― what do you mean no?”

“What do you mean sorry?”

“That’s rude!”

“What’s rude?”

“Answering a question with another question. You did it again.”

“Well, sorry.”

“No.”

They both smirk at each  other, bursting in laughter in a matter of seconds. Suddenly Poussey’s phone is buzzing on the table, and she pick it up to look at the text message she received.

“Um, my father says if you want to stay for dinner.”

“I’ll have to ask my mother,” Brook says, but she already knows that if she asks the answer is going to be no. She gets up and dials her mother’s number, knowing too well she will get yelled at, but still willing to give it a shot.

Needless to say she fails, and she tells so to Poussey, who looks sincerely bummed out. “Janae was going to come too,” Poussey mumbles, as if that is going to make her mother change her mind. Then Poussey smiles as she goes on, “Have you met Janae? Man, she’s the best.”

“No, I just know her from the school journal,”

“Oh, yes. They won regionals.” Poussey recalls. Then she smiles again, a little smugly, and adds, “Again.”

Brook smiles too because the whole school is very proud of the track team, the team members are quite celebrities At Litchfield High and the popularity is well deserved too. She can see Poussey really likes her, pride is glinting in her eyes as she tells Brook about times they challenged each other at some sport Brook has never heard before and Janae won and Poussey had to swim in a in a very cold lake naked for three whole minutes.

It’s too soon when her mother comes to pick her up, and while she doesn’t say anything Brook notices the look she casts at Poussey; and because she knows her, she also knows there’s disapproval in there. But honestly she doesn’t care. Her mother doesn’t know her. _Brook_ doesn’t know her.

Poussey is her friend. This realization hits her as she climbs in the car. Now Poussey is her friend, and that makes Brook warm inside.


	2. secrets i have held in my heart (are harder to hide than i thought)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Arctic Monkeys's _I Wanna Be Yours_.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Next chapter might take a little longer to get done, sorry (school and stuff, you know the drill)!

** First Date **

“So.” Janae slumps beside her, making her perk up at the suddenness. She’s been sitting alone and kind of spacing out since the lunch bell rang, and she hasn’t really been expecting Janae Watson of all people to join her. “What is it you with you and P?”

Brook immediately thinks it’s a fairly strange question; why does she care about it anyway? “What is what?”

“You and P.” she repeats a little impatiently, “What are you two?”

Brook frowns. “We are― what do― what are,” she stops, “Um, I don’t. I don’t get the question.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth the bell rings again, signaling for the beginning of the classes. Janae, who has been looking intently at her, probably trying to decipher her gibberish, sighs annoyed. “Whatever. Meet me after school, I need to talk to you.”

Brook intends to protest, but Janae is up and away in the bat of an eyelash, and she would yell if there was hope of being heard. Brook sighs and prepares herself for what will probably be the scariest half hour of her entire life.

~

As promised, Janae is waiting for her at the exit of her Astronomy class, tapping her foot and looking around herself like somebody is going to jump her any moment. Or maybe she is.

She grips her backpack strap, “Hi.”

She nods curtly, and signals for her to follow her. Her pace is rather brisk, but she can keep up. “Ok, so. I need you to tell me what is your relationship to Poussey. I’m not trying anything. I just want to make sure.”

“Make what sure?”

“Just answer the damn question, I’m not repeating myself.”

“We’re friends, I guess.” Brook decides. It’s the safest term, even if she sometimes wonders what would Poussey do if she stroked her cheek and leaned in, closer and closer until―

“So?!” Janae urges.

“Sorry, I― I spaced out.”

“You’re just friends? That’s all?”

Brook feels under interrogation. “Yes, like I told you. Why do you want to know anyway?” she pauses for a second, before a thought hits her. “If― if you’re worried I’m going to steal her from you… you are very wrong. I know you two have a special relationship and I’ve just arrived in her life, I’m not trying to take your place as her friend, so―”

“She’s not just a friend.” Janae cuts her, shrugging. And it leaves Brook confused for about four seconds, before she realizes. Before Janae can add anything, she clears things up for herself.

“Oh. Oh, of course. I― I didn’t know. I’m sorry I― I’ll stop hanging out with her if you think she― I mean, she doesn’t, I won’t― we weren’t really―”

“So you don’t like her?”

Brook flushes at such a direct question. But now that she knows how things are, she can’t help but shut it all down. She tells herself it’s for the best, and that it’ll go away. She just needs to accept the fact that Poussey and Janae are a thing. Now that she thinks about it, the signs are all there, she just chose to ignore them, stupidly enough. She’s grateful she got to know before anything awkward could happen, at least. “Nope.”

“Not even a little?”

Brook is probably blushing furiously, “Nope, I swear. Just friends.”

“Mh.” Janae looks unconvinced, and she knows she probably looks like she’s lying, but she can’t release the tension in her shoulders.

“I’ll go. See you, I guess.” And she walks away.

~

Janae remains planted where she is, looking at the girl rushing away. She ponders of the new information she has. Poussey has been talking her ears off about this Brook girl, for months on end. She has invited her at her house at least ten times in the last two months, and Janae has been trying to help her because she can bear so many late nights awake, listening to her talking about how she should approach her, or if it’s too soon for asking her out  officially, if she’s into girls or not. How’s Janae supposed to know that anyway? (Janae had jokingly proposed her if she should help a pal out and test it out, but Poussey had slapped her head hard enough to dissuade her.)

She knows all in all Poussey is just a goofball and that she’s really shitty at reading other people’s feelings sometimes, especially when she’s blinded by things like love. She can really be dense, Janae is very aware of that. She thinks bitterly that now Poussey is going to have her heart broken over this girl, and it’s really making her upset. She doesn’t know what she sees in her; but maybe that’s for the best.

And now she has to deliver the sour news too.

~

“ _Don’t_ tell her yet.”

“Tay, she will suffer if we keep this from her.”

Taystee doesn’t answer. She thinks, and thinks, and thinks. She doesn’t get all of this. “Janae. Shut up for ten seconds.”

She grunts, folds her arms and does as she’s told. Taystee bites on her pen, “All the signs were there.” She mumbles more to herself than for anyone to hear.

“Prom time is rolling over and look where they are! I knew from the start this was going to have a bitter end, one way or another. Gut instinct is never wrong.”

Taystee gives up, and slams the pen on the desk. “I can’t believe this. We gotta intervene or something. We can’t just let them… I don’t know. Ruin it for themselves.”

“But what’s to ruin though? She’s crazy for the girl and the girl doesn’t even want to tap that!”

“Janae,” Taystee sounds almost reprimanding, but she can see where her friend is coming from.

“I think we should let her know. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.”

Taystee sighs, “Poussey would die if we just went and did that.”

“Did what?” suddenly Poussey appears behind them, with her sports bag on her  shoulder and a wide smile on her face.

“Mock-asking you to prom and then humiliate you in front of everybody.”

Poussey snorts, “You’d end up being the one humiliated.”

“And how is that so?”

“I would kick your ass and you know it.”

“I’d like to see you try, Washington.”

“Anytime, Watson.”

“Earth to idiots, somebody help me with this Math assignment or you all will most likely fail.”

Poussey sits, retrieving her math textbook from her bag. “So what are your plans for prom?”

Taystee doesn’t even look up from the page to answer. “Not going.”

“I don’t know, I may ask out that cute guy I told you. The one from the track team.”

Taystee nods approvingly to herself, “I second that. And you, P?”

She was hoping she got asked that question, and she’s barely able to suppress a smile forming on her lips. “I’m gonna ask her. Well, not now, but when the time comes.”

Taystee finally looks up, and meets with Janae worried gaze. Poussey is still smiling, but her grin slowly fades when she notice their exchange of looks lasts a bit too much. “What?”

Taystee takes a deep breath.

~

“Yellow.”

“Pink.”

“Yellow.”

“ _Pink_.”

“Yel-low.”

“Pink!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

“Don’t swear!”

“Sorry! Just— yellow.”

“Nope, I can’t agree with you on this one. Our friendship ends here, it’s been real.”

“Where are you going?!”

“I’m going!”

“This is your house, P.”

Poussey sighs dramatically, dragging slowly a hand on her face. “Fine, you got me. Yellow Power Ranger is still better, but Pink can kick ass too, _I_ _guess_.”

Brook smiles sheepishly, “They are all good, it’s settled.” She nods, drawing her knees closer to her chest.

Poussey notices her arms tightening around her legs and raises an eyebrow, “Are you cold?”

“Nope,” Brook shakes her head fervently, but a chill down her spine making her quiver a bit betrays her, and she bits her lip when the taller girl raises both her eyebrows again and shakes her head. Brook laughs, “Ok, maybe a bit.”

“Blankets coming right up. Let me grab the popcorn and I’m all yours.” And she jogs in the kitchen.

Brook has by now learned to ignore the butterflies colonizing her stomach, revolting every time Poussey so much as smiles at her. She has found a great friend in her, a better one that she could ever imagine. Poussey, she learns, is so much more than what she seems, and then some. The girl is not only funny, caring and always willing to help. She’s brave, she’s bold, she’s kind and she loves all of her friends with such a burning passion. Brook knows she is smitten, but she can’t help staring in admiration whenever she hears her talking about her passions. And she has so many. Sport for one; she has played every sport a human can play. She likes dogs and she knows a million varieties of them; she tells every time they go out and they cross paths with a dog. She likes children, even though she is convinced they don’t like her back.

Poussey would be such an amazing mom.

“There you go,” Poussey plops near her, throwing a large blanket over the both of them, “Ready for this marathon?”

Brook smiles at her, scooting over to rest her head on Poussey’s shoulder. She blushes a bit, both for the fact that she was fantasizing about so many silly things, and their vicinity.

She feels extremely guilty in enjoying her contact this much. She knows Poussey is not hers, and a pang of remorse hits her every time she thinks of her as more than what they actually are. She does her best to not let her feelings come between them, making her read into things and—

“Oh, and by the way,” Poussey adds as the initial credits roll, “How is it going with Leanne?”

She shoves a fistful of popcorn into her mouth and turns to Brook with expectancy. “Well, she glares at me sometimes, but she hasn’t made a move yet.”

“Yet?” she asks, still chewing on her food.

“Well, I don’t expect her to just let it go just because you jumped in.”

“Me too,” she agrees, “But now you can strike back.” She finishes, a hint of something quite undefined in her tone. Brook takes it as assurance, but it feels tinged with something deeper. Maybe faith; Poussey has faith in her not to let people like Leanne ruin her existence anymore. She smiles. It is almost intelligible but it’s there, and Brook doesn’t miss it.

Brook doesn’t reply, just look up at her and smiles; Poussey smiles at her too, and in that moment, just sitting there on her – best – friend sofa, blankets thrown all over them, she feels like she could conquer the world if she wanted to.

~

“Hey, P, I found it!”

Poussey turns to her as soon as she hears her voice behind her, but she doesn’t lower her speedy pace. Brook manages to keep up only because lately she’s been working out a bit to gain resistance for the self-defense lessons. “Brook! Where was it?”

“My mother must have thought I didn’t want to keep it anymore, you know, it’s an old book.” She hands it to the girl and she turns it back and forth a few times, and then she gives it back to her.

“Rad. I’ll— I’ll give it a shot, thanks,” she assures, but it feels rushed, as if she’s just saying that to get rid of Brook. And Brook is not hurt by it, she’s really not. She doesn’t mean to be that person and say she’s used to it, but the attempt at a sincere smile Poussey gives her confirms it. She knows she’s looking at her like she kicked her puppy, but she just can’t help it.

“Nothing at all.”

Poussey looks around herself like she’s searching for something— for someone, and she can’t find it. “Ah,” she finally addresses Brook, who’s still following behind her. “I need to do something, Brook, see you later?”

And Brook nods, stopping in her tracks. “See you later,” she says, and as soon as the words leave her mouth Poussey lights up, seemingly having found who she was looking for. It’s Janae, the girl is seated on the grass with a boy Brook hasn’t seen if not at one of the frequent sportive events the school attends. Poussey runs to her, leaving Brook to herself. She glances at her watch. She’s not going to be late today.

~

“Janae, what’s it?”

The girl in question whips her head to look at her, still smiling from the conversation her best friend has just interrupted.

“P, hey,”

“Is everything alright?” Poussey asks, concern clear in her voice.

“Yeah, what about you?”

“I read your message,” she says instead of answering the question, “You said you wanted to talk. So what’s the matter?”

“Oh, yeah, right. I need to tell you something,” and her expression changes imperceptibly as she excuses herself from the boy she was talking to and gets up, grabbing Poussey’s hand and leading her away.

~

Brook doesn’t want to notice it, but she does.

She means to get to class immediately, but then she remembers the book was still in her hands, so she turns around to jog there quickly and give it once and for all. But as she turns, she sees Poussey and Janae, hand in hand, rushing away. She swallows.

So Poussey is skipping school today, no big deal. Her chest aches, but she forces a smile. It’s not the ideal situation, but at least Poussey didn’t make her assist to the scene up close and for that she’s grateful.

~

Poussey joins her in class, eventually. She’s clearly been running to get there, and she manages to turn up just in time. She smiles at her, but it’s a little spent, and Brook wonders if it would be intruding to ask her if something is wrong with her girlfriend. She sticks to smiling back and clearing her part of the table, and they pay attention to Mr. Healy talking, not truly catching a syllable of what he is saying. His lessons are boring anyway. The whole subject is so boring, Brook is _exhausted_ —

“Hey I was wondering,” Poussey’s voice interrupts her inner complaining monologue. Shame, it was just starting to bloom. “Are you free, um, today?”

Brook just wants to shout out all that she’s feeling— “Yes.”

—and not let it haunt her anymore. She’s just so tired— “Cool. Wanna come over?”

—what is all of this getting to her? “What for?”

Poussey gulps, “Nothing in particular, I mean, if you want we could— we could study or, I don’t know,”

“Sure.” She smiles out of politeness. But then she feels a rush of worry hit her. Has she answered back too harshly? “Is everything alright?” she manages, and she hopes it sounds as sincere as she means it to be.

Poussey nods, but Brook sees uncertainty linger. She ignores it, nodding as well, “I’ll be there at four.”

~

They eat the brownies Poussey’s father has baked, spend a grand total of half a hour on an English Lit assignment that Brook had already started working on anyway, then proceed to turn on the radio and dance to a song that Brook has never heard.

 _It’s gonna get better before it gets worse_  
We never have to come back to Earth  
Cause it’s gonna get better, better  
It’s gonna get better, better

At the end of it, they are breathless, laughing and slumping on the sofa.

“You’ve got moves,” Poussey puffs, still catching her breath. Brook laughs, trying to convey the strength to say ‘right back at you’, but she’s still too worn out by their wild dancing to. She just rolls over so she’s closer to Poussey, and as she does the girl’s hand comes to rest on arm, her thumb gently rubbing back and forth.

They remain in silence for a long while, distracted by the noise of the rain outside and their breaths coming down to a normal speed.

Poussey suddenly clears her throat, “You know,” she says, “I kind of lied this morning.”

“About what?” Brook looks up at her, seeing the girl is staring at the ceiling, her stare void.

“About being fine.”

Brook blinks. “You and Janae fought?”

“No— not really.” Poussey answers, “She’s just worried about me and… about how I’m behaving lately.”

“Why so?” she knits her eyebrows; she hasn’t knows Poussey for as much the two girls have known each other, but she sure would have noticed if the girl had been acting strangely. Or, well, she likes to think so.

“It’s a bit complicated.” Poussey breathes out cryptically. “We’re friends, right?”

“Of course, you silly,” she says, straightaway, laughing at the absurdity of such a doubt.

“Of course.” Poussey echoes.

Brook sits upright, suddenly concerned she has stepped past some boundary yet again. “Why are you asking me that? Did Janae get mad at you because of me?”

Poussey is looking at her now, and her eyes widen as she shifts to lay on her side, addressing her properly. “Well, kinda.”

Brook knows this conversation is bound to happen, after all the times Janae has looked daggers at her. Every time she climbs on Poussey’s bike, the rare times she brings it to school. She is very proud of it, and she has named it Rosie, just like the turtle she had when she was seven. She just really likes the name, she had told Brook, she knows it’s weird of her. She agrees, but Brook likes the little weird things about Poussey anyway.

Every time she shows up at her practice and brings to her the book she perpetually forgets somewhere. Janae looks at her like she’s punching Poussey with every word they exchange. Her other friend, Taystee, doesn’t seem as – possibly – belligerent as Janae. She still looks at her as if she is ruining their moment (which she _is_ ), but doesn’t demonstrate it further than a slight pull of her lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Brooks finds herself saying, “She already spoke to me about this and I _ignored_ her, I’m so selfish,”

“Hey, no, no.” Poussey sits up too, coming to wrap her hands on both her biceps and gently holding her, “Don’t listen to her. I’m good as we are now. She is just paranoid I will do something… well, she’s just paranoid.”

“But Poussey, she’s right. I shouldn’t put myself first this way.” Brook admits, and it’s so painful to, but she must do it. “I feel like I’m disregarding you and our friendship this way,” she hesitates, “and your other relationships.”

“But you’re not!” Poussey exclaims, exasperated, “Don’t— I’m fine about us!”

“I am too, but,” she exhales, “I’m not worth all the drama, P,”

Poussey looks at her, downright shocked, “Brook. Of course you are.”

“I can’t come between you two this way!”

“Between us two?! Brook, what are you talking about?” Poussey frowns, and they are both standing up right now; Brook feels the urge to turn and make a run for the door. She could go home on feet.

She stutters, “I— you and Janae, P! W-what else would I be talking about?”

Poussey is at a loss for a good couple of seconds. “Brook. What is this about?”

Brook freezes and she doesn’t know why she feels nervous of all a sudden. “Y-you and Janae. She—she asked me. She asked me if I liked you.”

“I know, she told me.”

“P, I’m sorry if I made you two fight; I tried to tell her that there’s nothing between us,” she feels like she’s defending herself, even though no accusation is made yet. “I thought she had believed me.”

Poussey shrugs, “She will always be a sister to me. She’s just worried I’m delusional. Well, she’s right about that, apparently.” She casts a hopeless look at her, and Brook doesn’t know what to make of that whole sentence.

“I’m sorry, what?” is all she manages to whisper.

Poussey seems somewhat uncomfortable and miserable as she talks, obviously pained before her next consideration, “She told me that you didn’t feel anything for me, and to let it go. She wanted me to just end this friendship if it meant torturing myself over it. But she’s not in charge of me, and she’s not of you either. So fuck her, ok?”

Brook is paralyzed. “I— I thought— a sister?”

Poussey frowns. “Yeah?”

“You two— you two. You are not together.”

“Of course we’re not, Brook. That would be weird as fuck,” she laughs, relieving a bit of the tension that was building between them.

An intense flow of emotions flows through Brook, and she can’t process them all, let alone name them. She just feels her heart beating fast. “She made it seem like you two were a thing.” She states, too absorbed in organizing the new knowledge to give any tone to her words.

“No, Brook,” Poussey inches closer, confusion altering her features, “She’s— she’s intense sometimes. And _very_ protective. But no, we are not a thing.”

Brook can feel her heart hammering in her chest, as if it was trying to break free and stop beating there and then, on the floor in front of them. She could do nothing but gape at the realization, at what all of what they have just told to each other  — especially what Poussey said — entailed. Then she remembers she has to say something, at last.

“Oh.” Brook knows it’s not enough, it’s too open to (wrong) interpretation, but can anybody blame her?

Poussey, on the other hand, seems about to splutter a million apologies, a million reassuring words, even more swears directed at herself and at the circumstances. “Right,” she swallows, “So now it’s— it’s out loud. It’s fine. Ok?”

“Poussey, I don’t know how to tell you,” Brook is trembling by now, “You got it all wrong.”

Poussey blinks, and Brook doesn’t let her interrupt. “We both did, we got it so wrong.” She almost laughs, but it’s not the best reaction in a situation like this one, so she sticks to what must be a weird mix of delirious and anticipating all gathered in a small smile. “I only said that because I— I thought you and Janae… I thought you were together, oh my god.” She finally manages, a lump in her throat making it hard to let it out.

“So what you are saying is,” Poussey starts, but she is also too caught up in processing to form proper sentences.

Brook steps forward, a grin splitting slowly on her face. “Yes. Yes.”

Poussey opens her mouth, taking in a large breath, “Goddamn,” is the only thing she says; Brook stares at her the whole time, even stepping closer at some point, and she can’t help but smile when Poussey finally locks eyes with her. They both do, and it’s full of excitement,  so much that they just look at each other, their faces almost hurting they’re grinning so wide.

“Come to prom with me.” Poussey asks, but it doesn’t even have the interrogative inflection, which doesn’t stop Brook from saying yes and throwing herself at Poussey, who holds her ever so tightly.

~

“Where are you going?!” her mother almost shouts.

“M-mom. I told you,” Brook stutters, “It’s prom, at school.”

“Well, I don’t remember.” She states stiffly. “Why are you even going anyway?” she starts, and she continues on bombarding her with questions until Brook interrupts her.

“There are teachers too, I’m not going to be late, I won’t drink, it starts at 20.30 and Poussey is taking me.”

“On her… motorcycle?! Brook are you insane? It’s dark outside!”

“Mom, it’s not the first time she rides it, nor it is for me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. It’s dark and cold and it’s not that I don’t trust _her_ , Brook. It’s way more dangerous than it already is broad daylight—”

“Mom, we’re literally going to school, not on a war mission.”

“Put a warmer coat on, at least! God knows how much wind—”

“Yes, mom.” She changes coat for the seventh time.

“And who are you going with, anyway?”

Brook’s throat promptly closes up. “Ah, I’m going— I’m going with, um, Poussey?”

A grimace is about to grow on her features, but— “Aw, sweetie,” she suddenly softens, putting a hand on her chest, the other cradling Brook’s cheek.

“Mom..” she tries to mask her bewilderment.

“It’s fine, no boy invited you. Don’t be sad about it. They just haven’t realized what a beautiful girl you are. It happened to me too, you know? There is no shame about going with your other girl friends.”

“Right.”

“Ok,” she sighs, satisfied with herself at her sensibility, “Have fun and be careful,”

“Bye mom.”

~

“So this is a date?” Poussey beams, removing her helmet and helping Brook down the bike.

“Of course it is, silly,” Brook says. She can’t believe that now she could look at her in the eyes whenever she wanted, smile and refer to Poussey as _hers_. “Our first, if you don’t count the others.”

“I don’t want to,” she says, surprising Brook a bit, “I prefer remembering our first date as a time where I wasn’t worrying myself I was overstepping the whole time.”

“Then this is our first date,” and she blushes more than a lot at Poussey’s sparkling eyes filing with delight when she says it.

Janae and Taystee (who at least decided to come just to stop Poussey from whining aloud for days on end) are waiting for them in the parking lot, the first of them with her arms crossed, impatient for them to make their way there, the other bouncing graciously to the sound of the music blasting from the gym.

“Bitches,” Poussey announces herself as soon as they are in front of the other two girls; they  greet them back, and Brook finds that Taystee is free of any bad humor about her when she gives her a small hug and she whispers her hello. Janae limits herself to a nod and a grunted ‘hi’. Brook smiles soflty at her.

“Can we go? Connor is waiting for me,” she says, and with that they are in for a night of (careful, they are still at a school event) fun.

~

They dance, and dance, and dance. Poussey still is, but Brook can’t feel her feet anymore after the third song, so here she sits, enjoying the multicolored lights paint her girlfriend yellow, pink and blue as she moves wildly on the dance floor. Her breath is just evening out, and she is suddenly aware that she’s sweaty and probably disheveled, gracious courtesy of whoever decided that upbeat music was going to be the only thing playing (and you can’t really sway languidly to Nicki Minaj’s _Starships_ , can you), so she needs a quick trip to the bathroom to check herself out and readjust.

She grabs her purse, making her way down the empty corridor she walks through every day; it is admittedly creepier, with most lights shut and the untypical silence, but Brook isn’t that cowardly.

What she hasn’t kept in consideration is that while not illuminated inanimate objects couldn’t hurt her, people hidden in the shadows very much could.

“Soso,” a voice echoes, arrogant. “We meet again.”

Brook immediately recognizes its owner. “Leanne.”

“Look how pretty we are,” she teases with venom, “Getting dressed up for our Dyke Night Out?”

“Leave me alone.” She chooses to ignore the slur in favor of casting her gaze down, and hoping she decides to spare her this time.

“Or what?” she spits, getting closer to her. She’s alone, her two subordinates probably waiting for her somewhere near. “You know, I’ve gotta admit. You found yourself a pretty strong defendant. Not that I can’t crush her whenever, but I’m surprised. And appalled. You two make quite the pair.”

“Listen—”

“No, shush. Let me finish. Last time you didn’t let me, but now I won’t allow discrepancies in my plan.” She paced in circles before her, her hands clasped together as her heels tickled on the floor, resonating in the vacant hallway. “You must pay for what you’ve done. See, I can’t let myself be thought as weak. I can’t let a tiny roach as yourself walk this place and be able to say you got away with your little rebellion. You must respect the hierarchy. And I happen to be the highest step of the pyramid,”

Brook can feel the anger grow in her chest. If she could expel it, it would come out as smoky breaths out of her nose and her ears, and then she’d scream fire into the petty blonde’s face. She grits her teeth instead, willing herself to calm down and face the whole situation with as much maturity as possible. She has to make up for the lack of it in her bully.

“—listen carefully, because I’m doing this for you. I’m _teaching_ you your place in society, and I don’t expect a thank you. You will get it later. I’m sorry this must go in such a way, but you’ve left me no choice.”

Leanne then lunges forward, breaking the solemn composure she has maintained up until that point, her face twisted in a spiteful sneer. Brook is quicker on her feet, and she moves to the side, occupying the place the blonde was in before.

She doesn’t relent, attempting to throw a punch at her face, but failing when Brook ducks and grabs her ankles, pulling them forward. The girl topples down with a grunt, and sitting up, she tries to kick her.

Brook stumbles back a bit while trying to avoid it, giving her the time to get back on her feet and grab a fistful of her hair, kneeing her in the stomach; she screams as Leanne brings her up, already preparing her fist to hit her square in the face.

Brook screams, “Wait!”

Leanne frowns, but doesn’t move. “What,”

She breathes heavily, thinking of a way of gaining time while she struggles to swallow down the fear. “I’m sorry.”

Leanne immediately revels in it, “A little too late now,”

Brook has a second to decide her next action. Leanne is pulling back, and she knows it’s either take it, and continue taking it until she’s out of there (only to be somebody else’s punching bag in the future) or bite back. Poussey’s face flashes in the back of her eyelids as she closes them for a split millisecond. She breathes, she swallows and that’s it.

She slams her head straight into Leanne’s. The girl grips her hair tighter before her clutch weakens and she lets her go, fainting and hitting the floor.

Brook’s head spins, and she’s pretty sure she has damaged herself too. Her heart is beating fast at the realization that consequences will ensue and she doesn’t know if she’s going to end up worse than before.

She walks out, trembling all over, only to find Angela leaning on the wall of adjacent corridor, with her arms crossed over her chest and probably waiting for Leanne.

“Hey,” she says, startling her from her drowsiness, “Tell Leanne this is thank you.” And the girl, eyes blown wide, doesn’t even reply, she just hurries away.

~

As soon as she gets outside, Poussey is running towards her. “Brook! What the fuck, where were you?”

“I’m sorry, I—”

“I’ve looked for you everywhere, when— are you ok? You seem,” she finally slowed down, taking in the girl in front of her. “You seem shaken. Something happened?”

Brook gulps, “Leanne.”

That instantly enrages Poussey, “Where is she? Tell me, I’m going to fucking destroy that little—”

“It’s been taken care of.” She says, and for the first time since it happened, she allows herself to feel proud. She doesn’t like being violent, but the realization that she stood up for herself elicits a small smile out of her.

“You confronted her?”

“I headbutted her.”

“You did _what_?!” and Poussey explodes in incredulity and astonishment, sagging her forehead with the tips of her hand. “You could have called me, how do you feel?”

“I didn’t want to, and I’m pretty  alright,” she smiles, “Slightly, um,” and she can’t come up with anything so she just gestures vaguely, because she can’t name the feeling possessing her at the moment. Fortunately, Poussey nods as if to say she fully gets it, and that makes her breathe a sigh of relief.

“So much for all those non-violence speeches you gave me, huh,” Poussey jokes, draping an arm across her shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

Brook blushes violently, opening her mouth to give a million and one reasons she couldn’t have behaved otherwise. She is suddenly hit by a slight sense of guilt, but anyway she doesn’t have time to actually speak, because Poussey is giggling and kissing her forehead soundly. That gets her even more flustered, and unable to respond completely.

“Let’s get you home,” she says, and she takes her hand, guiding her away.

**Author's Note:**

> scream at me at izzy-lightwccd.tumblr.com
> 
> Fic title from Isbells' _Elation_.


End file.
